


You're Not Alone/Maybe We Are Alone

by glasscamellias



Category: MOTHER: Cognitive Dissonance
Genre: Choking, Codependency, Dubious Consent, Dubious Consent on Both Sides, M/M, No Genitals, Psychic Violence, Self-Harm, Self-Hatred, Telepathic Bond, Violence, endgame spoilers, suicide baiting, these aliens are a mess
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-29
Updated: 2018-03-29
Packaged: 2019-04-14 09:36:40
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,304
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14133321
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/glasscamellias/pseuds/glasscamellias
Summary: Not all introductions are happy ones, and from the moment they 'met' Giegue tried to get rid of Niiue any way he could.This leads to some unorthodox methods.





	You're Not Alone/Maybe We Are Alone

**Author's Note:**

> Mind the tags, please.

Everything felt cold.

Giegue was crying, and that wasn’t okay. Maybe he should have been pleased with it, Giegue finally allowing himself to cry for once, but it seemed more painful than cathartic. Crying and hunched over with his hands scratching at his ears, whispering to himself in between sobs and hiccups. Maybe it would have been easier if he couldn’t understand what he was saying, when every word felt like a blow. I/You should be dead. I am/you are disgusting and unwanted. Why did I/you do this, when the world could be perfect? Everything hurts. Why do I fail at everything?

There was blood on Giegue’s ears, and on his hands, and on the floor. Warped metal and glass shards from a broken monitor littered the floor, and what if Giegue stepped on it and hurt himself more? He needed to clear it away, once he had properly comforted him.

When he tried to get to his feet, unsteady and shaking, he made it a few steps before he stumbled again and fell at Giegue’s feet. Giegue didn’t look up until he tried to touch him, hoping to pull his hands away from his brutalized ears before he could do more damage.

Giegue swatted at his reaching hands, though it was so weak that it barely hurt. Both of them were drained of PSI, not even dregs left, and he was pretty sure that was why he didn’t get blasted immediately. Who knew how long that would last, when these days Giegue’s PSI regenerated through anger? It would only take a few solid minutes of self-loathing and Giegue could tear him apart. _Would_ tear him apart, based on his mumbling. But if he could just hold Giegue and find the right words, he would calm down! Right?

Someone knocked on the door outside, but they didn’t have security clearance to unlock it, and the room was blocked against teleportation. No one had the proper clearance; if something happened and he was locked inside, no one would be able to help him. Faintly, through the metal door: “Commander? Are you alright? I heard shouting.” There was at least one more person who would care instead of walking by; didn’t that count for something?

Giegue didn’t take that as a sign that all hope was not lost. He screamed wordlessly, loud and shrill enough that he would be surprised if he could still speak afterwards, and flung a shard of metal at the door. For all that it barely scratched the door, it was enough that he heard the sound of a warp, their visitor reflexively getting out of danger. Maybe it was for the best; a lot of Starmen being scrapped these days, usually for infractions that weren’t their fault. It didn’t change the fact that he wanted to call for them to come back and help him/them, no matter how it went against decorum. Tear down the door, make a scene, do anything, please—

That Starman wasn’t going to come back, so he needed to act himself. Giegue was shaking, and this room wasn’t doing him any favors there, after he just decided one day that he didn’t deserve to be warm, and made sure that his quarters were as icy cold as the life-support systems allowed. Shouldn’t he be fixing that somehow? He pulled off his bright striped shirt and held it out, intending to put it on him instead. He was thinking about how he’d make sure not to snag his ears on the collar. He always hated when people would flick his ears; they were too sensitive. Only a few feet away, before he could reach out to guide his arms into the holes, Giegue slapped it away, the shirt skidding into the corner.

There wasn’t anything else but the shirt, no way to wrap Giegue up in blankets or clothing when he didn’t own any. (Definitely no hope of wrestling the pants onto him.) Couldn’t share his own body heat, not if Giegue refused even the smallest touches. He wanted to sing to him too, but it would only make him cry more, wouldn’t it? Without any PSI, he couldn’t attempt a heal, and that didn’t leave a lot of options left for comforting him. Shaking the bits of glass out of the fabric, he redressed himself.

“This is a nightmare, isn’t it,” Giegue whimpered, his voice raw. “You were supposed to be gone, not haunting me... What do I have to _do? I just need it to stop..._ ”

No clothes, no blankets, just a threadbare towel in the back of a cabinet. He wanted to wrap it around Giegue properly, but he began to flail and scratch whenever he got within arm’s reach, so it was dropped onto his back, slipping down on the floor. He made no attempt to pull the towel closer, and his rocking soon made it fall away completely.

He didn’t know how else to help, only that he wanted to. _Had_ to.

He swept the metal and glass into a pile, earning nicks and cuts as he carried the broken mess, bit by bit, to the trash chute. The entire time, while he found tinier and tinier shards of glass nearly invisible against the metal floor (better to accidentally embed them in his hands than leaving them for Giegue to step on), he could feel Giegue’s despair tip over into rage. At the world, at himself, at the ‘abomination’ he had created.

With rage came his PSI, rushing back in.

A more practical person would have seen it as inevitable. Reasonably, he should have gotten out long before Giegue had recovered to this point, but how could he possibly leave him like this?

The moment he was able to do it, Giegue flung his palm out, the air crackling around them. He barely had time to brace himself before he was hit with a wave of psychic energy, tossed against the wall like he weighed nothing—

—and Giegue cried out in pain, falling back onto the floor. It couldn’t have been a misfire; he was far too talented a psionic for such a rookie mistake. Even at his most disturbed, Giegue was too well-trained to mess up an attack. Every movement was painful, but he tried to get to his feet.

But, instead of stopping to think of what had just happened, Giegue cast another. Of course he did, even if he was clutching himself on the floor, blood starting to seep out of his nose. Pain was supposed to be irrelevant. What soldier gave up on their mission just because of a little discomfort? And Giegue wanted to be the best soldier the army had ever seen.

As he collapsed under the force of another attack, inexplicable even to him, Giegue screamed again, a high wail that he was sure anyone nearby had heard. As angry as it was pained.

Was it actually possible that they shared pain, not just emotions? He had been so focused on _Giegue’s blood,_ _Giegue’s pain_ , that only now, when he was paying attention to it, he could feel his own ears stinging in more than just sympathy. His hands didn’t come away with blood when he cautiously checked (though it hurt to move his arms, he had landed on one of them and it didn’t look so good). Whatever their bond was, it didn’t go so far as to mirror injuries between them, but any sensations of pain were carried from one to the other.

Giegue seemed to realize that as well, lifting himself off the floor with shaking arms. His pause was long enough that he hoped it was over. For someone else, that would have been the end of it. Who would keep attacking someone, knowing that they would have to suffer through it too?

He would, apparently. Gritting his sharpened teeth, he resumed his attacks, even as his body trembled and seized under the agony he was willingly subjecting himself to. The force of it tossed him back into the unyielding metal of Giegue’s hyberpod, and he was sure he felt something crack. It was all he could do to curl up, protect his head, and make sure his hat didn’t fall off. From the way dark shapes started to crowd in at the edge of his vision in the few seconds it was knocked off, he was sure that was the one thing between him and madness. If he finished himself off under the effects of Giegue’s mind-warping, would that kill both of them? He couldn’t let it happen.

The whole time, Giegue was getting angrier at himself and at the situation that he had created, and more of his PSI returned, enough for him to launch more powerful attacks. Under that bombardment, under the weight of their collective pain, he wasn’t able to gather his own PSI. If he had somehow managed to meditate enough to cast a single shield, he doubted it would have lasted a minute.

(“Why aren’t you dead already? Pathetic, disgusting—” Already he was divorcing the two of them, willfully forgetting that they could withstand the same amount. Putting him into the spot of _other_ , something weaker.)

There was only so much agony Giegue could apparently take, his thin chest heaving, clutching at his head. He must have had PSI to spare, and it felt like he was only a few attacks away from death, but Giegue was similarly on the edge of collapse. With a faint groan, he passed out.

If he hadn’t been so battered, he would have worried about the dull thunk of Giegue’s head hitting the floor, but... Just shifting his neck hurt too much to look down at himself, let alone turning towards him. He could feel the blood in his fur, seeping in his clothes; it was probably the warmest thing in the room. Had Giegue literally dented the wall throwing him into it? It seemed too optimistic to wonder if he had broken bones; the real question was ‘How _many_ broken bones?’ Was that shared pain the only thing that had kept Giegue from killing him outright?

(“You don’t deserve to exist. Why did I fail _again_? How do I fix this?”)

In this much pain, he didn’t think he could crawl out of the room and to a point where he could teleport all the way to the medical wing. Rather than trying to uncurl and making things worse, he just settled in. Maybe he had five, ten minutes before Giegue woke up? Maybe a lot longer than that; he _had_ overextended himself. That gave him enough time to breathe through the pain and meditate some of his PSI back. Not a lot, just enough to heal himself and Giegue.

If this was how their first physical meeting had gone, how was he supposed to help him?

By the time he healed himself enough to walk across the room, though it was unsteady, Giegue was still passed out, though breathing normally. He was free to drape that towel back over him, pulling it around so that he could put one wadded up corner of it underneath his head. Palms outstretched, he healed the damage to Giegue’s ears and hoped his efforts would remove any lingering phantom pains.

When he woke up, would he be just as angry? Maybe Giegue needed time to calm down, as hesitant as he was to leave. Time to recover from what he had done to himself, and then he would be able to see sense. He just needed to be patient about these things.

*

It hadn’t been that hard to get integrated on the ship. Mooks and Starmen were trained not to question gieegs, even ones that looked as eccentric as him. He name-dropped and postured a little, and everyone readily believed that he was an officer come to supervise things. He barely needed to use any psychic influence to get people to believe him. It hurt to overhear people speculating about how Commander Giegue _needed_ someone better to watch over him or to replace him entirely, but it worked in his favor.

Giegue hadn’t attacked him since the first time, but that was about as far as his positive feelings went. Whenever they got too close together, he could feel disgust and self-hatred coming from his side of their strange bond, usually for only a little while until Giegue could make a quick escape. Giegue wanted him gone, but he didn’t know how to make it happen. In between a few dozen failed attempts to reach Giegue, he made a spot for himself.

He watched over the ship. He tried to help the lower ranks where he could—assigning people where they would be out of the way of Giegue’s increasing wrath. He dreamed, feeling more and more like the universe was telling him something crucial. Niiue gave himself a name based off of common gieeg naming conventions and spread it around. It felt weird to not be ‘Giegue’ anymore, but he was getting more used to it.

It was lonely.

And then, Giegue finally approached him instead of the other way around, after he had been constantly rebuffed and turned away by the higher ranking Starmen Giegue had started collecting around himself, who apologetically insisted that the Commander wasn’t interested in seeing ‘Captain Niiue.’ And didn’t the ship gossip go crazy with that—Giegue was denying this new authority figure, so obviously he was going to be taken out for insubordination. Niiue might have been a brightly colored freak, but he was apparently considered miles saner than Giegue.

It felt like a miracle when Giegue actually walked up to him in the hallway, instead of taking absurd routes to avoid him. (It didn’t look good to the crew for him to teleport away whenever they ended up in the same room or hall, but he didn’t seem to care. Giegue didn’t bother maintaining appearances much now.) More than a miracle when Giegue grabbed his wrist and began to pull, ineffectually. He was so shocked by the idea of Giegue _touching_ him without a blatant attack that it didn’t seem so bad that he was squeezing as hard as he could. It didn’t hurt much, considering his lack of strength, but it still wasn’t a gentle hold, fingers digging into his wrist.

He was rushing them through the ship, ignoring the few crew members they passed. Was there going to be gossip about that too? ‘Is Commander Giegue in trouble? Maybe we’ll finally get new command. I bet he’s trying to talk his way out of this one.’ As if. (He tried very hard not to think of the last time Giegue _had_ done that, begging for another chance on the Earth mission, near tears and knowing that would only hurt his case more. His superiors were powerful enough that they needed only a video feed to worm into his mind, but instead they just asked him to carry out his own punishment. Giegue had been more than willing to break his own fingers at their command, to prove how obedient a soldier he was.)

At first glance, Giegue’s quarters looked as bland and generic as the room that Niiue had been given, with multiple apologies about how they didn’t have something better prepared for someone of his ‘rank.’ The ship hadn’t passed by any trading posts, so Niiue didn’t have many opportunities to collect anything. At best, he had some scavenged tools and scrap metal.

That first time he had been in Giegue’s quarters, things had been too chaotic to give any attention to his surroundings. But even without his memories of how the room should have looked, it was obvious that its sparseness was a new feature. He could see shreds of paper where drawings had been torn off the walls, the adhesive still stuck on. All the little purposeless robotics experiments had either been shuffled out of sight or thrown away entirely. Almost anything personal had vanished, with the exception of the dirty dishes scattered on his desk space. Giegue didn’t eat around the crew anymore, but at least he was eating at all. Not enough, based on the hunger pains Niiue picked up from him and how lackluster his fur looked, but better than nothing.

He didn’t have much time to look around before Giegue was yanking him in and slamming his hand against the door lock. He tried, ineffectually, to shove Niiue off his feet before grabbing him again and pulling him down to the floor with his body weight.

The whole time, he was just optimistically curious about what his other half was doing. Giegue had yet to say anything, so Niiue was a little lost, trying to psychically root out what he was thinking and only getting static. But he kept touching him, and that was nice, right? It hurt, but it was better than his treatment since that first night. His head knocked against the floor, barely protected by his hat, as Giegue climbed on top of him.

 _Oh._ _Oh,_ that was happening apparently. His expression still looked angry and disgusted, the emotions coming off of him in waves, but how was Niiue supposed to reconcile that with his hands shoving at his shirt, leaving it rolled up around his neck? How he was straddling his hips, leaving Niiue torn on wanting him to never leave and wishing he could take off his pants and have nothing but bare fur between them? Apparently he wanted to do things on the cold floor; military-issued hyberpods were a little cramped for intimacy, but it still had to be more comfortable than this. His tail was squished underneath his leg, and Giegue glared at him when he tried to shift to a better position.

He didn’t seem willing to shred Niiue’s shirt, but everything underneath was fair game as he leaned down and...started biting. And it hurt, yeah, but that seemed to be a pattern with him. It was safer than getting blasted with PSI, a lot less damage this time, and at least they were touching. With Giegue’s head bowed, he was close enough for Niiue to kiss and pet his ears, feeling raw patches where he had clawed his fur away. He tried to be as gentle as he could, wondering if this new closeness meant that Giegue would let him heal it. Maybe they were getting somewhere?

...Were they really having sex? Was that what was happening? Maybe he just needed to model less aggressive stuff so Giegue would know what to do without having to hurt him—

Giegue really didn’t like the kissing. He pulled away, a snarl on his face as his shaking hands sealed around Niiue’s throat, pressing with as much strength as he could manage. For once, he wasn’t trying to block their psychic link, knowing just the moment when black dots were starting to swarm Niiue’s vision. Just when he was sure that he was going to suffocate, hands flopping as he tried to grab at Giegue’s hands, he let go. “ _Do not do that again_ ,” Giegue hissed, and he had to wonder what exactly that meant, as he struggled for breath. Any kisses? Touches to his ears? Any touches at all? Maybe he wanted this to be his show, without Niiue distracting him.

(Maybe the next time Niiue did something he didn’t like, he wouldn’t bother letting go in time for him to stay conscious. Would that hurt both of them?)

More and more, he wasn’t sure why this was happening. Did he need to take a more direct approach?

“Why are you doing this? Why don’t you want me to touch you? I’m more than willing.” Maybe it was some sort of narcissism, to want to fuck the other half of yourself, but at that moment, Niiue couldn’t think of something he wanted more, even after a dozen bite marks and a still-aching throat. How long had it been since someone had touched Giegue without intent to harm? If he could make him feel loved, or even just a little less stressed and upset, it would be worth it. He could have done without being mauled in the process, but that seemed like a necessary trade-off. Giegue couldn’t remember how to do much of anything without pain anymore. “Tell me what you want.”

“You want to know what I _want_...” Giegue said softly. “I suppose I should make that more clear, since you’re clearly too idiotic to understand something so obvious.”

Neither of them had experience with the intricacies of gieeg sex—Niiue hadn’t existed long enough to hook up with anyone, and Giegue had always been too isolated to try—but the sensations drifting towards him were unmistakable. Waves of psychic energy burrowed into his skull, as horrible as they were erotic. He could feel tears welling up, but Giegue looked completely calm about it.

_You don’t deserve to exist. You need to be erased if you can’t function properly. You are a flaw on an otherwise perfect world._

As Giegue dug his fingers into a seeping bite wound on Niiue’s side, images starting to follow. Slowly at first, just in his mind’s eye, and expanding to take over his whole vision. Niiue, a tiny blur of white, blue, and yellow, drowning in what seemed like a miles-long well, the sides too smooth and slick to get a grip on anything. The whole time, Giegue kept up his cruel voice-over.

_You have to disappear. Everything about you is going to vanish. No one will remember you._

It wasn’t just the image of him drowning alone, with no chance of being rescued or saving himself, or Giegue trying to telepathically convince him of his worthlessness. Those would have been horrifying on their own, but Giegue was a stronger psychic than that. It wasn’t just the image, but the phantom sensation of icy water, even though he knew he was completely dry. A growing sense of exhaustion in his limbs, like he really had been treading water for hours. A feeling that his PSI was drained enough that he wouldn’t be able to teleport or hover, even though logically he knew he was topped off. Giegue was almost powerful enough to make him believe all of it.

At the same time, a prickle of warmth spread through him, settling low in his stomach. Even when he was being this cruel, Niiue still wanted to drag Giegue closer. In a way, wasn’t he saying these horrible things to himself too? ...But it wasn't just because of that. 

The problem was that everything they had learned about sex (which wasn’t a lot, without any experience), had a strong emphasis on telepathy as a turn-on. Military education had very little to say about sexuality, but there was a constant circulation of erotica files, usually passed around by older students but available to anyone who knew where to look. And Giegue _had_ looked, at a lot of awkwardly edited stories about trysts conducted over a distance, people getting off without anything more than their partner sending them images of what they could have been doing to them. Long after everyone else had started trying it with each other, all Giegue had was those stories.

A body against his own, shifting enough to barely consider it as grinding, and a voice in his head, regardless of what it was actually saying, and that was all it took to get Niiue ready to go. Tears were soaking into his fur, as he was bombarded with thoughts and images of himself dying, and he was still getting turned on by it. He couldn’t help reflexively bucking up into Giegue, wishing that he wasn’t the one gieeg around who wore full clothing.

_You pollute everything you touch. The world suffers because of your failures. The best thing you can do is to die._

Had Giegue come into this expecting that he would be completely unaffected? He froze, and it had to be from Niiue’s arousal hitting him. Were they going to be stuck in a feedback loop? It was already becoming hard to think: his own lust and despair mirroring in Giegue, and the combination of both feeding back to him, then to Giegue again...

When Giegue finally spoke, he struggled to keep his voice clear and calm. “Nothing I’ve tried so far has been enough to kill you outright, but there has to be some way to erase you. Shouldn’t this leave you weak enough to finish the job?”

It kept getting louder and louder, until it must have been affecting Giegue too. He tried to hold onto the arousal, as weak and uncomfortable as it was, hoping that it would be enough to distract Giegue and stop him, but it seemed like that was Giegue’s plan. They were both so inexperienced that Niiue’s feeble grinding and Giegue’s telepathy was all his body needed.

The closer he got to coming, the darker his vision got, until Giegue had disappeared into a void. He could still feel the weight of him, but even that was fading away. It was hard not to feel alone in the dark with only Giegue’s voice to cling to, as it got more and more distorted. That must have been the whole point: he couldn’t have been more vulnerable than then, and Giegue was redoubling his efforts.

Even with everything trying to convince him to end things, _he didn’t want to die._ His mind screamed out to get away from the voice however he could, but he had to resist somehow. (And it was horrible that the part of him that could resist had been stolen from Giegue, who needed it more.) Not just staying alive to help Giegue, though that was a big part of it. If he died, would everything that his dreams had hinted at fall apart? Would something catastrophic happen because he wasn’t there to put the puzzle pieces into place? Somehow, though his limbs felt numb and detached from him, he managed to reach up, grabbing at Giegue’s arms as he toppled over the edge and back into reality.

Opening eyes that he hadn’t realized were closed, he stared up at Giegue, breathing heavily. There was a pause where they watched each other, Giegue clearly expecting him to self-destruct. There was a lull in his telepathy, expecting he had been victorious, but Niiue was sure it would start again unless he acted.

So he did the only thing he could think of, reaching out with his own telepathy. _I love you. Calm down._ (He tried to ignore the burst of disbelief. Gie couldn’t help it, right? No point in feeling hurt about it.) Underneath the hate, he reached for the thread of lust running underneath, trying to bring it closer to the surface and offering his own, however involuntary, to add to it. _Don’t you want to feel good too? It’s your turn._

He had the feeling that Giegue hadn’t expected to get off. It was out of character for how he probably wanted it to go: Niiue being lost to it all, and Giegue staying in control the whole time, untouched and unmoved. He didn’t seem to register what Niiue was saying, but it clearly had some effect, his orgasm creeping up on him unexpectedly. One minute he was clawing at Niiue with all the strength he could muster, clearly frustrated that all of his psychic attacks hadn’t worked, and the next he was just holding on, fingers tangled in Niiue’s fur as he doubled over, whimpering and groaning. It clearly distressed him, his tail swishing in agitation, but he was too close to the edge to stop.

One of the few orgasms Giegue had ever managed, the first with another person (technically...?), and it was to a backdrop of trying to kill part of himself. Niiue could feel that it was somewhat pleasurable on his side, but the way his body locked up, stiff and uncomfortable...the way his noises sounded more pained than anything.... He was all but trying to fight it off. Niiue should have given him something better than that, right?

And, unceremoniously as that, it was over. Now that there wasn’t any pleasure distracting them, as weak and forced as it had been, all the bite marks and scratches had started stinging in unison, and it hurt to breathe. Where were they supposed to go from there? Another failure on both sides: Giegue failing to destroy Niiue, Niiue unable to get through to him.

“Even with your defenses lowered that much, I still couldn’t erase you,” Giegue mumbled to himself. “I need to reassess.”

There wasn’t any opportunity for afterglow. With a resigned look on his face, Giegue climbed off of him and walked out of the room without looking back. Not bothering to clean the blood transfers off or to smooth his fur. The feeling of his irritation and disappointment receded farther and farther, until Niiue could only conclude that he wasn’t on the ship anymore. Was he really heading off into the void of space, just like that? As much as he wanted to chase after him, Niiue had to look over the ship as well.

He didn’t have much time to linger himself, and he headed to the nearest intercom, ignoring the looks he was getting from everyone he passed. Commander Giegue had abandoned his post, he told them, and he was taking command. At least until he could pass it off to someone more qualified so he could chase after Giegue. This could have just been a tantrum, and maybe he would come back, but....he wasn’t the type of person to go back on a decision. Was he so sick of Niiue that he refused to share the same spaces anymore?

And then there was a thought, so clear and strong that it passed from Giegue to Niiue over a steadily increasing distance. He was done with the ship. He wanted to burn it down, to escape from its hold on him. It didn’t matter that he hadn’t opened the doors to his childhood home in decades. Maybe that was the problem, he told himself, and he needed to destroy it, needed to remove the weakness it represented. And it was another way to get rid of Niiue.

The lives of the rest of his crew didn’t matter to him anymore. Giegue was going to tear apart the Mothership.

He teleported to the bridge, just as the ship rocked below him, explosions too close for comfort. It sent him stumbling against the monitor in front of him and, his mind racing, Niiue made another intercom announcement, trying to keep his voice steady. People were probably panicked enough without him adding to it.

Through the windows, he could see the southern part of the ship fracturing, pieces of it already drifting into space. The higher ranking crew could teleport away, but would the rest be able to reach the escape pods? Would he have time to evacuate anyone after he was done helping Larice? He was just a basic Starman, but all of those dreams about him had to count for something. He was clearly important, even if Niiue didn’t have all the pieces put together yet. Important enough that maybe Niiue was sentencing other people to death by focusing on him.

If anyone noticed how ruffled he looked while he debriefed them, patches of torn fur and his clothes rumpled and spotted with blood, death _was_ imminent and all that. Weren’t there more important things to worry about? He had to keep telling himself that, as the ship broke apart around them, and half of him drifted farther and farther away.

**Author's Note:**

> Do gieegs have bones? Or dicks? I’m not really sure on either, or if what I was going for came across, since ‘Giegue screwing Niiue to try and erase him’ is...kind of a weird concept to make work. But perfect is the enemy of finished, so I’ll say this is good enough. 
> 
> Man, this whole thing is very embarrassing, but I guess I have to write the weird Niiue/Giegue fic I want to see in the world. (Also I don’t consider this to be in the same timeline/’canon’ as A Crayon Drawing of a Family, just to put that out there. Gonna delineate the Giegue/Niiue and the Giegue&Niiue, to put it in ao3 terms.) 
> 
> The title comes from two of the songs on the game’s soundtrack!


End file.
